sey's black eyes were no longer snapping; they were wet with
tears.

"I am coming to take you both away from this place in the morning, John
Randolph. If you won't come for your own sake, you must come for the
child's. So like a man not to know that that poor baby needs to _feel_
all the more sunlight because she can't _see_ it! And she may even be
able to see it some day with proper care." Miss Betsey bent over the
child so caressingly that she looked more like a funny old angel in her
strange, long cape and her ridiculous hat than a selfish, cross-grained
old maid.

"I do not understand your kindness, Madam," returned the old gentleman
with courteous curiosity.

"Because I am your friend," answered Miss Betsey curtly. "I'm Betsey
Taylor, whom you used to know a great many years ago. You have forgotten
me because you have had many interests in your life that have crowded me
out. But I--I have remembered," concluded Miss Betsey abruptly. "Good
night." She swung her dark lantern and, looking more than ever like a
grenadier, led the little procession out.

CHAPTER XX

THE FANCY DRESS PARTY

"Mrs. Preston says we may have a dance before we go back to the
houseboat, Eleanor," announced Lillian. The two girls were out under the
big grape arbor filling a basket with great bunches of red and purple
grapes. "And Madge suggests that we have a surprise dance for the boys
the night they get back with the motor launch."

Eleanor laughed happily. "What a perfectly delightful idea! Isn't Mrs.
Preston a dear? We must have been a lot of trouble to her."

Lillian shook her head thoughtfully. "I don't think so," she answered.
"At least, I believe Mrs. Preston has liked the trouble. She says that
we have made her feel younger and jollier than she ever expected to feel
again in her life. She says that she is awfully fond of each one of us,
and that Mr. Preston has never cared as much for a boy since his own son
died, many years ago, as he does for David Brewster."

"Lillian," Eleanor's tones were serious, "I think that we ought to
change our opinions of David. Somehow, he seems so much nicer recently,
since the other boys went away. He is awfully quiet and sad, but I
don't believe he is hateful and sullen, as we thought him at first. Poor
David!"

Lillian did not reply at once. A sympathetic expression crossed her
delicate, high-bred face. "I suppose, Nellie, dear, it must be hard for
David to be with fellows who have